


The Third Day

by Craftswoman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Loneliness, M/M, Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Past Relationship(s), Post-First War with Voldemort, Post-Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Werewolves, Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-21 06:56:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22556887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Craftswoman/pseuds/Craftswoman
Summary: He had lost his pack. He was alone.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 5





	The Third Day

The third day was always the worst.

The first day after the change the wolf was still present. Even after he'd changed back to his human form it roared inside him, consuming every thought and feeling but rage.

The second day he pulled himself up and staggered through the woods back to the tatty old inn where he had rented a room for a couple of days. There he collapsed on the lumpy smelly bed and fell into an uneasy sleep, totally exhausted, mind blank.

The third day it all came back to him.

He curled up on the bed and the screams inside came out as rapid panting, his fists hammered against his head, and he dammed every deity there ever were for not letting him die this time either. It would be an appropriate way to go, to gnaw off a limb and bleed to death alone in the wilderness. He was too much of a coward to do it any other way.

He had lost his pack. He was alone.

Wolves lived all their lives in family groups, where all its individuals had their place and their roles to play. The alpha-female leading them, choosing the strongest male for mating, prividing the flock with cubs. The alpha-male making sure everyone's safe and no-one is left behind. The one best for tracking prey up front, ears alert and nose sniffing. The rest of them following, the weakest in the middle.

That's how it was supposed to be. That's how it once was.

Days, weeks, months, years. Almost two years.

Two years ago they had met to celebrate little Harry's first birthday. Despite the threat that was hovering over them, they had put that aside for the evening and gathered around the big wooden table at James and Lily's warm kitchen in Godric's Hollow. The aromatic smells of Lily's lasagna whiffed their noses and made their mouths water. Bottles of cold butterbeers was distributed all around. No outsiders, only them, the pack, the family.

Remus, still a bit weak since the last full moon, had watched his friend's happy faces. Lily a little sweaty from the heat of the owen but smiling, rushing about fixing this and that with a flash of her wand, her flaming red hair cascading on her back. James tall and proud, chatting on and on about how incredibly clever and talented his son was turning out. Peter slipping in a little later than the rest, stuffing his face with whatever's in sight, looking weary and sitting more quiet than usual. And Sirius...

Sirius with Harry on his lap, bouncing him up and down on his knee, making him squeal of joy, turning to face Remus.

His grey eyes glittering of laughter as they met Remus's. His beautiful face radiating with happiness, contentment and love. And only a couple of months later he betrayed them all.

Remus let out a muffled whimper into the pillow as the thought brought the pain back with blaziing fury. How was it possble? His Sirius? How many times had he asked himself that question? How was it possible for someone to so completely hide their true self from the ones who loved them? How, and further more; why?

Why? They were happy, weren't they? He still couldn't believe it.

That last morning.

Remus groaned at the too vivid memory. Sirius rumpled by sleep, his hair disheveled andd tousled. How he had laughed at Remus for being grumpy and wanting to go back to sleep. How he had reached out and pulled Remus closer, letting his warm mouth trail languid kisses along his collarbone, down his scarred chest and stomach until he reached his goal and nuzzled his nose into the coarse hair at Remus's crotch before he took him deep into his mouth. And Remus had given a shaky sigh of pleasure, basking in the overwhelming feeling of how truly _happy_ he was.

How, despite the looming war and their difficulties they had managed to form a good life for themselves. With Sirius at his side, Remus the man could live, with Padfoot, Remus the wolf could survive.

How incredible it was that this wonderful, beautiful, kind-hearted, funny and intelligent man was here with him. It was almost too good to be true.

It wasn't true, of course. None of it was. Lies, all of it.

He had gone through every detail, every moment of that day over and over again in his mind, with Dumbledore and with the rest of the Order. None of it made any sense, so clever was Sirius's deceit. He had fooled them all, and Remus the most.

He stayed in bed the whole day, wallowing in memories. He ignored the rummaging of his empty stomach and pulled the covers over his head, and during the night that followed, the pain subsided into the hurt that was his constant companion.

On the fourth day he got up, took a shower in the lukewarm water, shaved and got dressed. He packed his few belongings in his father's old battered suitcace and went downstairs.

At the reception he gave the Muggle landlady a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as he paid his bill with the very last of his savings. How he would get by now he didn't know.

He let his gaze slide over the last place where he'd felt relatively safe, nodded again at the woman behind the counter and walked out of the door.


End file.
